As Solid As Snowflakes
by little miss BANANNA HEAD
Summary: I wrote this for the first ever monthly Phansite RP Hub Writing Contest. Theme was Winter. Much angst many wow. Reader POV.


AN: Hey guys! This was written for the first ever Phansite PR Hub Writing Contest. It's recently been updated to happen once a month!

It was a lot of fun to write, and the amount of effort everyone put into their works was amazing. It was fun when everyone got online to hear the results. The voice chat went crazy XD.

This was what the contest entailed (in the words of the lovely host, Delta):

 _The theme of this contest is winter, to go with the season we're about to head into and the type of writing will be scene introduction. So, that means you have to describe a scene as if a set of characters are about to enter it and it must have some relation to winter. Something like an ice cavern or a fire place by the christmas tree can also work, feel free to ask if you want to try something you aren't sure of. We'll be using a subjective points system with categories all having 10 points as the maximum per category and giving coments as to why I gave the score I did in each one. You're limited to what can fit into two discord messages for this contest._

There were 5 categories (Style, description, diction, creativity, and relation to theme).

So, this is my entry. I didn't know where else to share this, but because it was technically written for the people frequenting the Phansite, I figured "why not!"

Enjoy!

* * *

The chill caresses your face, leaving behind a soft flush. Even as you close your eyes to the bleak mountain view, you're still left with a hazy afterimage painted into your eyelids. White powder sifted like flour, glistening crystals grinded down into fine sugar; it settled around you in a flavourless flurry. It wasn't near as soft nor sweet, but the refreshing breeze was enough to tilt your lips.

The sun's warmth, however frail, still graced your exposed face with a golden veil. You embraced its rays as one would an old friend. Even as the temperature dropped, you refused to budge. This little glance of freedom was too exhillirating to give up. Every whip of thin mountain air, no matter how sharp it cut, did not deter you from your quest for peace. Snow soaked into your pants and boots, it seeped into the lining of your gloves, yet you stayed.

Solitude was sometimes considered the best medicine, but you didn't see it as such. You could hear the wind around you screaming for recognition. The mountains stood at attention, awaiting any secret you dare whisper with a quiet patience. White-dusted pines swayed in an unending dance, inviting you to join them. You decline every time.

Out here, you weren't alone. Stranded atop banks of snow and sleet, you couldn't feel more at home. Even as the chill sunk deep into your bones, even as you shivered involuntarily, nor when the sun's warmth finally bid farewell, you refused to move. This paradise was your prison as much as your home.

Opening your eyes once more to the shimmering blue peaks, you were once again rendered vulnerable to the breathtaking scenery. The Northern Lights, in all its majesty, danced across the night sky. Yellows and greens and blues and reds all stringed together. Its brilliance gleamed off the frozen peaks around you, lulling your shakes until all that remained was a dull tremor.

Puffing out a huff of precious warm air, you watched as the resulting fog lifted into the night sky. You gazed wistful as your breath danced along to the Northern Lights' silent carol. Despite your insistence on not joining the fray, your trecherous mind still soaked in its melancholy.

By now, you couldn't feel your fingers, nor your toes. Your arms had gone numb long ago and your legs were following suit. There was a stab of cold resting in the center of your torso, and you considered moving. You considered the possibility of getting back to the group in time. You imagined sitting by a warm fire, roasting smores beside those you lay fond of. Your eyes grew hazy as you thought of spooky stories about Robo-Santa and popcorn machine monsters.

Hot floods trailed your cheeks as you remembered stockings hung over a brick-layer fireplace. Floods turned to ice when those memories soured by avalanches and fever. Shivers anew, you couldn't hold in the pained whimpers as you felt your hands turn to ice. Even in the darkness, you saw them bruised purple and blue, iced over even in the gaps between your gloves and your jumper sleeves.

You watched them die. You watched the power go out and the cold set in. You'd left to get help, to make contact with the other campers on the mountain, but now as you stand atop this mountain peak you know it was in vain.

There was no one left to save.

* * *

AN: For those of you that were wondering: This was the winning entry. Got first place (score of 45.5/50) and still in shock lol.


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